You're back home, but your head's still there? Why do words get stuck and how does music free you?

From: The 100 Fish Family (and the Snake Fish) | Reading Time: A few minutes of silence

The drive home from the reserves is probably the strangest drive there is. One moment you're there – in the noise, in the mud, on alert, with the people who have become your family. And the next moment you're in your private car, at a traffic light in Tel Aviv or Jerusalem, and the radio is playing regular songs as if nothing happened.

You enter the house. The hugs, the children, the wife or husband, the parents. Everyone is happy that you're back, everyone asks "So, how was it?" And then there comes that moment when the words just get stuck. You want to tell, you want to share, but how do you explain to someone who wasn't there what you went through? So you say "It was okay," or "The main thing is that it's over," and go to the shower to wash off the dust. But the head? The head is still there.

If you're nodding in front of the screen right now, it's important for us to know one simple thing:

Why is it so hard to talk about this?

There's something about extreme experiences – whether it's combat, being evacuated from your home under fire, or what happened in Nova – that just doesn't fit into words. Our words are used to describing everyday life: work, school, shopping. They're too small to contain real fear, or longing for friends, or that tension that doesn't let up even when you're sitting on the couch in the living room.

And this creates a disconnect. On the one hand, the home and routine that expect us to "return to ourselves," and on the other, the heart that is still on absorption alert. This disconnect is where loneliness begins, the little nerves that flare up for no reason, and the white nights.

Where the words end – the music begins

That's exactly why we founded

Think about it for a moment: When you hear a good song, it goes straight to the heart. It doesn't need explanations. When you hit a drum, or strum a guitar, it comes straight from the gut. Music is an instrument that doesn't judge you. The guitar doesn't ask, "How was it?" and the drum doesn't ask you to explain why you're nervous. They're just there, ready to accept everything.

In our workshops we see this happen over and over again: people enter a room with their shoulders hunched, silent. Then someone starts playing a simple rhythm. Slowly someone else joins in. Suddenly there is a flow. Suddenly the air enters another lung. We write lyrics, play them, and suddenly the pain takes shape. It becomes something that can be heard, something that can be shared with others without feeling strange.

First aid, but for the soul

Our activity at "100 Fish" is the most natural combination of two worlds: our guys – musicians (from the Snake Fish and other bands) who come to do what they do best – create. And together with us – therapeutic professionals (social workers and therapists) who look after you and make sure that the space is safe and holds everyone.

We come wherever we are needed. To bases in the north, to hotels for evacuees, to youth centers. We unpack equipment, and invite you to simply be. To unload. To breathe. To remember that there are other sides to you besides the trauma or the war.

Let's be partners.

This project belongs to all of us. Israeli society is going through a period of recovery, and everyone can take part in it. We need you with us to continue reaching every soldier, boy or girl who needs this music like the air they breathe.

How can you join us?

1. Be part of the family

We are building a community here. Not just of "patients", but of people who believe in culture and spirit. If you would like to stay informed, hear about open workshops and get a glimpse of what is happening in the field – come and become our member.

2. Give a tailwind

To run the van, bring the equipment, and pay our excellent caretakers – we need resources. Your donation is not a “charity,” it is a direct investment in the resilience of the people who look after us and the residents who have lost their homes. We work with full transparency (and of course every donation is tax-deductible according to Section 46), and ensure that every shekel goes directly to the work and the music.

I want to contribute and strengthen the activity >>

Finally,

With love,